


Princeton

by abluemountainashtardis



Series: Princeton [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ANGST OF A THOUSAND SUNS, Angst, BAMF!Stiles, Bloodbath, Character Death, Depression, F/M, Grief, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Scott's an Alpha, Stilinski Family Feels, The Alpha Pack, War, college fic, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:12:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abluemountainashtardis/pseuds/abluemountainashtardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How was he going to cope without Scott? Sweet, beautiful, innocent Scott, his second crush whom he never truly got over, his alpha, his baby brother, his best friend who he’d been through everything with. </p><p>Now they had witnessed the murder of their parents, their chosen family, and they were back at square one. Holding on to each other, not letting go. </p><p>It was going to be hard to do that from Princeton, Stiles thought as he buried his head in Scott’s fur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princeton

**Author's Note:**

> It's very angsty and upsetting. Stiles is depressed and vaguely suicidal in places. Be warned.

“I got into Princeton.”

 

The sixth time he said it had been at a pack barbeque, and by then he had already made his choice.

 

It hadn’t been a hard decision. He wanted out. He wanted _gone._ Maybe not forever, but for now he just wanted gone. College was the perfect excuse, the perfect reason, to run away. He would come back, eventually, for Scott and Allison and Lydia and Elliot and pack: for the gravestones in the cemetery.

 

Stiles had sold the house and moved into Scott’s the night before the funeral. Scott hadn’t wanted to be alone either between Melissa and his Alpha evolution. They crept into each other’s rooms, Scott sometimes in full Alpha wolf transformation, and slept curled around each other like they were kids. Like their parents were still sleeping down the hall and they needed to sneak around so as not to wake them, like nothing had changed. Stiles would trace the **stILes AnD ScOttIe** engraving on the bedpost of Scott’s bed and wonder how life had managed to go downhill from Scott’s dad leaving and Stiles’ mom dying.

 

Stiles met Scott six months after his mom had died. The panic attacks had just stopped, and he had received his diagnosis and medication for his ADHD finally, but of course by then the damage was done and none of the other kids wanted to play with him. Not with the kid with the weird welsh name whose mom had died and couldn’t wait his turn or play any game for longer than a minute. Then Scott came along. Scott, who would rather sit and read a comic book than play games, who couldn’t run around and play soccer because of his asthma – who still expected his dad to come pick him up from school and was disappointed every day he didn’t. Scott. Who had kissed his cheek and held his hand after Lydia had dumped her carton of juice on his head and hadn’t let go the whole day.

 

How was he going to cope without Scott? Sweet, beautiful, innocent Scott, his second crush whom he never truly got over, his alpha, his baby brother, his best friend who he’d been through everything with.

 

Now they had witnessed the murder of their parents, their chosen family, and they were back at square one. Holding on to each other, not letting go.

 

It was going to be hard to do that from Princeton, Stiles thought as he buried his head in Scott’s fur.

 

When Scott had evolved into an alpha near the end of junior year things had escalated. A new beta one of the alpha twins had bit had somehow attached themselves to Scott and pushed him over the edge, straight into alphahood.

 

They killed Melissa for it. Then they killed his father. Then they killed the beta. Then they killed the alpha twin. Ethan.

 

Then things got worse.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“We’ll miss you.”

 

The sun hung low and golden, the start of what was shaping up to be a promising summer. Stiles was sitting in between Peter’s legs on the back porch of the house that Peter owned, sides pressed against knees making him feel five years old, ice cold beer in his hand reminding him of when his fingers would go numb from ice creams. Ironically enough Uncle Peter’s house had become the hip happening place for the pack to be since junior year. Barbeques every other Thursday – mandatory. _“Even you, Derek,”_ Peter had remarked. It was one of the few times Stiles and Scott socialised outside of school, and today was one of the few times they left the house since school had ended. Stiles hummed and the hands that had been threading through his hair dropped to his shoulder as Peter leant down to whisper in his ear.

 

“Stiles, we’ll all miss you. Even Derek. Maybe even especially Derek.”

 

Stiles eyes flicked up to the silhouette of Derek, swinging back his beer as he talked Isaac through checking if the burgers were cooked. Derek. It had ended before it started. Now when he thought of Derek, when he kissed him, he thought –

 

_Lips pressed against his. Their bodies pressed up against car window. Dark house. No one in. Hands fumbling in the night. Keys pulled out, rattling in the door, rushing and eager to get to the bedroom. Door swinging open._

_His dad’s blood coating the wall in the shape of the Alpha symbol._

 

“I’ll miss you all too, Peter.”

 

But Derek he would not especially miss.

 

Scott had been there in almost an instant. Alpha instincts tuning into Stiles’ distress almost immediately. _What’s wrong? I felt something wrong. What’s happened?_ Derek was on the phone in the kitchen calling the pack to the house so they could catch the scent and track the Sheriff down, leaving Stiles alone to freak out and blubber. _Stiles calm down, we’ll get him back._

 

They had already lost Melissa. Stiles didn’t understand why Derek thought his dad would be any different.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“I got into Princeton.”

 

The first time Stiles had said it was in an empty room to himself. He had gotten into other places, nearer to home, closer to Scott and pack. He had been rejected for the scholarship places at the colleges that were _really_ prestigious, except for Princeton. Princeton had basically given him a free ride so long as he kept up his academic commitments.

 

He could leave. If he wanted.

 

He could leave Beacon Hills. The ghosts that haunted every place in this damn town. It had been a bloodbath these past two years. He jerked when he realised it’d been a year since Melissa died. He sat down when he realised next month would mark a year since his father.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

One of the worst things was that Derek had been a suspect. A person of interest dating the under aged Sheriff’s son? Definitely a suspect in the Sheriff’s disappearance. Stiles had screamed the first time they had tried to take Derek away from him. Of course the pack knew the truth. They had been there when Ennis ripped open his father’s stomach and left him dying in the preserve, dead before Stiles could make it to his side. The deputies didn’t understand that Stiles had been grieving his _dead dad_ , not his missing father. Thank god Derek had an air tight alibi, and a pack member with an esquire as a father, even if he was in England at the time. Jackson had been called back home for Senior Year though. The extra kanima strength hangover had been vital near the end.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“I got into Princeton.”

 

The second time he said it was whispered in Scott’s ear as they settled for the night, and he was still uncertain. Scott blinked, and for a moment or two was completely silent. Then he grinned. Smiled so big it near broke his face in two. Stiles hadn’t seen him smile like that since Melissa was alive. Stiles cried, the third time since his father died.

 

Scott rocked him to sleep that night, the same way Stiles had rocked Scott to sleep after he had climbed in through his old bedroom window the night after Melissa was killed. Stiles had thought he might lose Scott to the wolf, he had howled in the woods for nearly a day. Peter had too, and wasn’t that a shocker. Turned out Melissa could keep secrets too. Secrets like dating the man who turned her son into a werewolf.

 

Sometimes Stiles thought that Peter didn’t process things like pain properly anymore, other times he thought perhaps Peter was just better at hiding it. Holding court in his house - which was ideally located by being equally distanced between the twenty four hour McDonalds drive through, Deaton’s clinic, and the preserve. It became safe haven for any and all who found themselves in the war zone.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“I’m proud of you, Stiles. We all are. They would be too.”

 

Stiles felt a lump in his throat when Peter said that, could feel his eyes burn.

 

“I remember when my little sister, Vivian, was accepted into Yale. The whole family was so proud; we were all walking on air for weeks.” Peter chuckled. “Except Talia – Derek’s mom. She was insanely jealous and immediately demanded that Ethan – her current boyfriend - propose to her. She used to be so… self-centred. Then Ethan dumped her a week later and Michael came along. Derek’s father. Talia just… became the Alpha with him. Reached her full potential. He was… wise. And calm. So calm. Like a rock. The first time she brought him home we knew. We all knew. We would have turned him in an instant, but he never seemed interested in the bite,” Peter’s hand ran lazily down the back of Stiles’ hair. “You remind me of him sometimes. When you’re trying to explain something or giving instructions. When you’re sure of something.”

 

Sure of something. Believe. Be the spark.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

When Stiles’ father was murdered, after Stiles had calmed down from the shock, they had left him there. A victim of an animal attack. Stiles had felt sick at the idea, clawed Derek’s eyes out when he had suggested it. He couldn’t look at him the same after that.

 

Derek and Stiles were having issues before his dad had died, small cracks, but afterward they fractured, growing from even the tiniest bit of pressure. They were beginning to turn in huge crevasses that were insurmountable in the end. They always kind of knew they wouldn’t last. That it was the adrenalin from saving each other’s lives and sneaking around, but their chemistry was so strong, and they _knew_ each other in a way that no one else had. However knowing someone, what they need, predicting their moves in battle, physical attraction and sexual tension, to trust them implicitly at your back doesn’t mean you’re supposed to be together romantically. Derek had a system for his socks and an allergy to technology, Stiles was a chaotic mess and an exceptional nerd with more online avatars than was advisable if you wanted a social life outside of the virtual world. They had different interests, different social circles barring the werewolves – and who knew Derek had a job with actual work colleagues - but the real clincher was communication. Stiles talked about anything and everything that popped into his head. Derek didn’t. You would think that it would be a perfect partnership, but in reality it was a disaster. Derek would get tired out and Stiles would get frustrated. They didn’t understand how to talk to each other. Derek spoke in bullet points sprinkled with dry wit, Stiles spoke at length with flowery exaggeration and hyperbole.

 

The sex was good though.

 

The sex was great.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“I got into Princeton.”

 

The third time he said it was in the Argents household. One of the few places he visited without Scott. Allison and Scott were in quarantine from each other since the last relationship fallout and Stiles had wanted access to the Argent Library, and the Argent self-defence training, and weaponry, so he just got used to going by himself. Allison smiled at the news and jumped up and down a little, gushing immediately with congratulations and praise. Her father’s eyes glossed over very slightly then after a moment nodded.

 

“That sounds great, Stiles.”

 

“I’m still deciding if I want to go or not. If I pick there, would there be… complications?”

 

Complications like being seen as an invading force on someone else’s territory. Complications like rouge hunter units who would shoot a human pack member that was separated from his alpha.

 

“There’s a local pack, but packs usually don’t defend territory where colleges are built. It’s considered impolite. New Jersey has had no activity for twenty or thirty years. You’ll be fine. If you want to make sure I can get you the contact information.”

 

Stiles nodded and breathed for a moment. He had a way out. He could run away and forget. He was sure of it. Princeton was where his future lay. He honestly believed that now. His fingertips began to tingle the way they usually did when he sparked. That was when he made his choice. He dropped his shoulders and felt the weight tying him to Beacon Hills drop from him. He heaved a sigh of relief. Of course he hasn’t felt truly relaxed since the day after his dad’s funeral when the force took him out, ensuring that the bartend at their local understood that Stiles was an adult no matter what the law said. He got so hammered he told the entire precinct that he regretted he never told his dad he was gay. They had told him his dad already knew.

 

That was the first time he had cried since his dad died.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Stiles watched Elliot play fight with Jackson at the bottom of the garden under Scott’s careful gaze. He prodded Peter’s knee.

 

“Did Derek go to college?” Stiles asked suddenly curious about his ex.

 

“I don’t know,” Peter replied lightly.

 

Stiles took a drink and leaned back against Peter’s chest. He thought it was sad that Peter would probably never know what Derek and Laura did those six years. Stiles doubted anyone would ever know. Derek guarded Laura like a precious gem. He guarded everything.

 

Stiles had screamed at Derek the night before his dad’s funeral. It had taken a month for his dad’s body to be found. A month where Stiles had ran himself ragged, in a perpetual state of needing distractions, of needing exhaustion, needing other people to be busy around him, needing someone else to make the noise that kept Stiles’ life on track, needed someone else to be busy, needed someone to be _him_ so he could stop.

 

Derek hadn’t understood.

 

The councillor at school had said everyone had different methods of coping with loss. Derek hadn’t understood that Stiles didn’t want physical comfort. Derek was tactile. It was the wolf in him, he was a social creature that wanted attention and people and comfort. Stiles had wanted to be ignored. He wanted to be put in the corner of a busy house. He wanted the business that his mind was used to fluttering around him while he sat back and watched. He needed to know the world was keeping turning, not the solitary, silent, confining embraces Derek had. And Derek still. Didn’t. Talk. When he had needed words the most, Derek couldn’t even muster the clichés.

 

There aren’t a lot of people who get to say they broke up with their boyfriend on the eve of their father’s funeral in a screaming match that brought two or three of the guests of said funeral to the door to investigate a domestic complaint.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“Congrats Danny,” Stiles had said, chipping in his two cents with everyone else at the cafeteria table as Danny announced his lacrosse scholarship. Danny smiled easily.

 

“You know what you’re doing yet?” Danny asked smoothly. Stiles felt Lydia tense slightly beside him, like a mama lion ready to pounce. Stiles headed off her attack on Danny by nodding.

 

“I got into Princeton.”

 

The fifth time he said it out loud received the same “Congrats” as Danny’s announcement had. He wasn’t friends with anyone at the table bar Lydia, maybe Danny at a push. A year or two ago he would have been sky high to sit at the popular table, now he just wished he was high. Lydia sent him a significant look and Stiles nodded again. He was sure. She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. It seemed fitting that the last time he sat with the Lydia Martin in a school cafeteria ended in complete reverse from the first time he attempted it.

 

Lydia was one of the reasons he wanted to do biology. He knew that in the end it would probably come to genocide and the eradication of werewolves if the hunters got a hold of it, but Lydia was the next step in an evolutionary chain. Lycanthropy antibodies. If they had created a cure last year they could have stopped so many deaths. Saved so many lives.

 

As it turned out, teenagers aren’t very good at open warfare.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“Hello boys.”

 

It was a fortnight after graduation that the next pack barbeque had fallen. The sun was bright and heading for a brilliant sunset. Scott had butted his head against Peter’s shoulder as he passed. Stiles didn’t understand how, but in amongst the pain of Melissa’s passing Scott had found someone who understood his loss and built a relationship with a man who had intended on becoming his father. Who was technically his father if anyone cared to run a DNA test, another fact that had enticed Stiles to enter the world of science.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

They had buried his dad next to his mom. Stiles remembers being in a suit and tie and feeling terrible. Like his head was about to explode and all he needed to do was scream to relieve the pressure. It was the stillest he had ever been in his life. He hadn’t cried. People kept on telling him how brave he was being. Stiles had nodded to them, terrified of what would happen if he opened his mouth. Terrified he would start telling people what was going on in their small sleepy town. Little did he know it was about to get even worse.

 

The pressure had reminded him of Derek, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to be upset about his exceptionally recent break up. They had gotten three months together; his dad and he had only gotten seventeen years together.

 

Derek had gotten less with his dad.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Elliot ran up to Stiles and threw his little pudgy arms around his neck. Elliot. Elliot was the best mistake he had made all year.

 

“Uncle Derek says I can’t have ice cream until I have proper food.”

 

Stiles nodded. “That seems sensible.”

 

“Uncle Scott said to ask you.”

 

Stiles grinned and let his eyes flick up to Scott who shrugged. Scott couldn’t resist Elliot’s cute little puppy dog eyes. Stiles sighed.

 

“Elliot, you know better than to try and get around your alphas like that.”

 

Elliot pouted. Stiles was unmoved.

 

“Guh!”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes as Elliot ran off to annoy Isaac. He raised an eyebrow at Scott who grinned cheekily at him.

 

“That child is going to be spoilt when you leave,” Peter remarked. Stiles shrugged.

 

“Scott knows how to say no. He just sucks at it.”

 

_“No!” Scott yelled at Stiles. “I can’t look after a child Stiles!”_

_“I’ll look after him,” Stiles breathed, bone deep weariness hitting him. “Scott please. Don’t leave him here. The alphas must want him for a reason. Why else would you turn someone so young?”_

 

They looked after Elliot for four months. Four months of screams in the middle of the night. Four months of hiding from social workers. Four months of a nearly completely out of control eight year old werewolf. Peter was a godsend. Took the pup in his stride, taught Stiles how to give him structure, routine, discipline; taught Scott how to give control, focus, and appropriate force. Derek… Derek was a revelation. He became a different person. Stiles wondered what Derek would be like with his own kids, and huh, who’d have thought that’d be a turn on.

 

Finally a healthy Elliot was found by his half-sister Claire. Claire, Scott’s first bitten beta. His first made pack. Another soldier for the battle field. Stiles was surprised there were any unturned teenagers left in this town.

 

He was surprised there was anyone left in this town.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Pack barbeques had become a surreal yet vital way for the two alphas of Beacon Hills to keep a track of which betas were on their side. Stiles supposed that the plus side of having older more experienced pack members was that they could spot lying spying baby betas a mile away and send them on their merry way. The first time a strange beta had knocked on the door of Peter’s house, Scott nearly attacked on primal instinct.

 

Turns out Aiden wasn’t too happy about his brother’s death and was building an army of betas, hoping sheer numbers could overwhelm the alpha pack.

 

He had been wrong.

 

It didn’t stop him from trying twice more, until he himself was killed.

 

By then only Kali and Deucalion had survived. They had copied Aiden’s tactics, creating betas to sacrifice in battle. When Peter had decided to open his door to the wandering ilk and Stiles helped smuggle them to safe neutral territories, to gentle packs, or inviting them to stay and submit to their alphas, they had managed to cut the alphas’ forces down significantly. It had taken a long time, building up the contacts the Hales used to know, having Chris talk to his associates while at the same time keeping the situation as quiet and contained as possible… There were days Stiles was certain none of them would make it. That the hunters would find out about how severe the situation was and eradicate them all, that Deucalion would come to Scott’s house and murder them all in their sleep, that the newly turned betas would betray them, that the overwhelming sadness and inability to get out of bed would defeat him and he would just waste away.

 

He thanked whatever werewolf gods there were that he had Elliot, and Elliot had Claire. He was certain that Scott and he might have faded away into nothing without them.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“I heard you’re leaving.”

 

Stiles glanced up from the TV and took in Claire’s form.

 

“For Princeton.”

 

Stiles nodded.

 

“That’s across the country.”

 

Stiles leaned back and crossed his arms.

 

“You can’t leave us. You’re our rock. Our commander. We can’t, we won’t function without you.”

 

Stiles kept silent.

 

“Why?”

 

“This pack, at its peak had eighteen to it. Cumulatively it was thirty two. How many do we have now?”

 

“Nine.”

 

“Nine.”

 

The world stopped for Stiles.

 

“Stiles?” Claire asked frowning, crouching down in front.

 

“There’s only nine of us now,” Stiles whispered. “Only nine of us survived.”

 

It was the fifth time he had cried since his father died.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Derek wasn’t very good with dealing with tears. Stiles had found this out the hard way. He always found things out the hard way with Derek.

 

_“Dude, would you just for once in your life share what’s going on behind those sour wolf eyes?” Stiles said leaning his head against the steering wheel._

_“You’re too tired to drive,” Derek said finally. “Let me.”_

_Stiles nodded. Neither of them made any effort to move._

_“I don’t want to go home.”_

_“You need to.”_

_“Not really, my dad’s on the night shift.”_

_“You want to come back to my place?”_

_“Your place? You have a place?”_

_“It’s a loft.”_

_“Now this I gotta see.”_

Stiles had ended up seeing less of the loft, and more of Derek.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“How long till the burgers are done?” Stiles asked, passing his empty bottle up to Peter. Stiles watched as Isaac answered the question.

 

“Isaac says five minutes,” Peter told him. Werewolves hated shouting.

 

Stiles hummed and tilted his head to catch the last of the sun.

 

“Did you go to college?”

 

“Yes, but I dropped out after a year or two. I became a familiar to a wiccan named Mallorie. We performed some wonderful magic together. We moved back here after travelling for years. She enjoyed the woods and the trees. It’s an old forest, she used to say.”

 

Stiles nodded. “It is. I can feel it sometimes.” Stiles blinked suddenly. “Did Mallorie have anything to do with the bridge over the stream on the north side?”

 

“She built it all herself. Why?”

 

Stiles smiled. “Mallorie may have saved my life.”

 

“When?”

 

“The night we found Elliot? I was in the preserve, I was on that bridge. I was tempted to use the knife that Chris had given me. Then I felt this rush. Like when I spark except it was more like… getting high? I don’t know. The stars were so bright. I phoned Scott to tell him how bright the stars were. He came and got me. When we were coming back there was Elliot.”

 

Peter’s hand was tangled up in Stiles hair. “We love you.”

 

Stiles nodded. “I know. I was just… I missed my dad. I… I didn’t see a way out. There were months when I didn’t see us surviving.”

 

“I remember. You smelt of pills and pain.”

 

“Anti-depressants.”

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

The summer holidays begun the week after the funeral. Stiles fell into a routine of waking in a cold sweat, clinging to Scott, showering, not eating his breakfast, going to the Argents, reading until lunch, not eating lunch, receiving training for fighting, going to Deaton’s to receive training for his spark, going to Peter’s to work against the alphas, move refugees, eating some dinner, going to Scott’s, taking his pills, meditating, reading about magic, falling asleep next to Scott. Other days Stiles woke in a cold sweat and lay there all day. Unable to move. Unable to think of anything.

 

_“Stiles?”_

_Stiles ignored the voice at the door._

_“Stiles.”_

_Scott came and sat on the bed, pulling Stiles’ head into his lap._

_“Boyd is dead. Along with an older woman. We think she was human.”_

_Stiles felt the pain in his chest thump against his ribcage. He sat up slowly and wrapped his arms around Scott._

_“Are we going to Peter’s?” Stiles croaked._

_“We’re going to Derek’s.”_

Boyd had died trying to keep Elliot’s mom alive.

 

It had taken longer than it should have to figure it out. It wasn’t until Elliot sat down with Claire for the first time and told her how his mom had died that Stiles put it together. The big black scary man that tried to help.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Another beer was pressed into his hand. Jackson. Jackson with the blue eyes.

 

_“Haven’t they told you what that means yet, Jackson?”_

_Deucalion had paced around the mountain ash circle that Stiles had formed around Jackson, Scott, and himself._

_“Genetics, little wolf. It’s genetics.”_

_Stiles brain went into overdrive and he gasped. Jackson spun around._

_“What? Stilinski, what?”_

_“Derek had blue eyes. Before he was an alpha. When he was a beta he had blue eyes. Peter… well his eyes don’t glow yellow. Actually I’ve never seen his eyes glow.”_

_Jackson stared at Stiles like he had two heads. “What does that mean?”_

_“The only difference between Derek the beta, and every other beta I’ve ever met,” Stiles said licking his lips. “Is the fact that they’re bitten, instead of born.”_

_Jackson blinked. “I was bitten.”_

_Stiles bit his lip. “A wolf can birth a human. The bite may have just awakened the DNA that was already inside you.”_

_Jackson breathed deep. “My parents were wolves?”_

_“We could find them Jackson,” Kali said. “Find their pack. You could have your family.”_

_“Maybe just one parent. Or maybe even your grandparents on one side,” Stiles said, ignoring Kali completely. “Maybe even a kanima hiccup. Although that’s unlikely, your eyes were yellow when you transformed into that.”_

_“They’ve been lying to you, Jackson,” Deucalion said. “Been keeping you from your real parents.”_

_“That’s not true! Jackson, don’t listen to them. Your parents are dead.”_

_Jackson’s eyes flared. “How do you know that?”_

_Stiles breathed deeply. “Erica’s father was the insurance investigator on your parents’ case.”_

_Jackson was silent._

_“Jackson, I’m sorry.”_

 

Stiles sparked the beer lid open.

 

“Has anyone else got any college plans yet?”

 

“Jackson and Lydia got into Stanford. Isaac is going to work with Derek for a while.”

 

“Scott’s getting his GED. Claire’s going to stay at home with Elliot starts school. Allison is going into the family business. She’s got a seat on a counsel somewhere -”

 

“Matriarchal aren’t they?”

 

Stiles tutted his tongue. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Allison had looked beautiful at Melissa’s funeral. Scott had clutched her hand on one side, Stiles on the other, the Sheriff on the other side of Stiles, Peter on the other side of Scott. She had such a grace and purity about her, even after all she had been through, even through the rage and confusion, she was always full of grace and purity. Like dancing firelight or a gust of wind churning up leaves. Stiles had always associated Allison with the air and spring. Now he associated it with Melissa’s funeral.

 

His dad had been furious. Completely and utterly furious. He knew that Stiles and Scott knew more than they were saying, he didn’t know they were there when her throat was ripped out. He knew that whatever it was that had made Stiles’ grades drop and kept him out at night had something to do with the five deaths that had happened in the past year. Six, including Melissa. His dad had pressed upon him, stressed him out, drank a bit more than was usual, asked him to stop lying because now it was serious. Now Melissa had died.

 

Stiles had laughed and said more than just Melissa had died.

 

He ended up spending that night in drinking with his dad, because his dad loved him - and even if he was lying about werewolves and having sex with Derek Hale and had become a freaking wizard Harry – his dad was still going to love him.

 

He’d be so proud.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“I got into Princeton.”

 

The fourth time he said it was at his parents’ graves.

 

“I don’t know what to do.”

 

He never did get out of the habit of lying to his dad.

 

“I can’t stay here. I… I hate this place.”

 

It was the fourth time he had cried since his father died.

 

The drive back from the cemetery was always the hardest. That was where he got his first fender bender: his mom had taught him how to bake chocolate chip cookies until his leg healed up. His dad took him there for pie after he moved to first line in junior year. Melissa took Scott and him to that pet shop after his first hamster had died. That’s where Malcolm had bled out in the jeep and died. That’s where Fiona tore out Ennis throat with her last breath. Down that road was where Deputy Granger had lived before Matt had the kanima kill him. Dad would take him to that ice cream parlour on Saturdays after little league. Mom would shop at that bakery. Melissa would flirt with that officer. That’s where they found Erica’s body.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“She’s got a seat on a counsel somewhere in France.”

 

Peter snorted. “A real Argent. Going back to her roots.”

 

Stiles nodded.

 

“I was thinking of visiting Wales.”

 

Peter hummed.

 

“My mother’s family was Welsh. Thought maybe I could track down a cousin, see if I could get an invite.”

 

“Weren’t you named for your grandfather?”

 

“Yes.”

 

_Perfume filled his senses. Long brown hair and a light laugh. Mom._

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

Stiles had sat crying on the hood of his jeep. It was his second day of Senior Year after the summer and he still hadn’t made it in the building. It was the second time he had cried since his dad died. He couldn’t imagine a future for himself anymore. Just this perpetual fight. It would keep going until the whole town was dead. Lydia had forced him to come back. Had told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to graduate and give her some competition for the valedictorian spot, and here he was. Bawling like a baby, but he couldn’t care less. He was thinking of driving back home to Scott and Elliot. Then Derek showed up. _“Stop crying and get in the damn school_ , _”_ he had growled. They ended up having sex in the backseat.

 

It reminded him of the first time they had sex in the jeep. Elbows hitting windows, knees in awkward positions, Derek being a pro at moving in the confined space. He had probably had tons of car sex Stiles’ mind had unhelpfully provided. They had just got Boyd back and were having life affirming, adrenalin fuelled, _I must have you now_ sex. Stiles could definitely get used to it. Stiles had loved Derek’s attention, loved the hand on his knee when he sat next to him, the press of their shoulders when standing, his back to Derek’s chest when he was baking, the little love bites on his collar bone where no one could see it, the long looks that Derek would cast when Stiles was reading. He looked like he couldn’t quite believe Stiles wanted him around. Dumbfounded. He looked dumbfounded.

 

Peter had looked at Melissa like that. Stiles should have figured out what that meant.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“I don’t believe any of us know your name,” Peter said lightly.

 

“Names have power,” Stiles muttered, thinking about his spell books.

 

“Chosen names have power too,” Peter teased.

 

“Ask Scott if you’re that curious,” Stiles replied.

 

“I already asked him,” Peter informed him. “He scrunched up his face and said Bloddy ooo wedding.”

 

Stiles snorted. “That’s better than I thought he’d get.”

 

“Stiles,” Peter whined.

 

“Maybe later.”

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“ _Dude, tell them now._ ” Scott, a believer in ripping off the bandaid. The pack had assembled in Peter’s back garden. Stiles knew that now was good. Claire and Scott and Lydia knew anyway. No one was going to begrudge him going. No one would demand he stay. Would they?

 

“I got into Princeton.”

 

The sixth time he said it had been at a pack barbeque, and by then he had already made his choice.

 

“I’ve decided to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's very non-linear. It spans from Melissa's death near the end of Junior Year, till a fortnight after graduation in Senior Year.


End file.
